what cruel and capricious nature
deigns to spin these spectacles
to weave the warp and weft
till I and you and we are left
small bits of enchanted stars
sewn together through the unending
to a point of barely comprehending
that we are, and cause, the scars
that keep us up at night in fearful wonder;
are we spirited God-given gifts
or crying dying monsters
born of loveless lightning ‘midst the thunder
Sometimes it is as though we are and then the rising hope so far yet near in light speed
with infinite time an ever present now
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